


Jeeves and the Addition

by crookshanks_caught_the_niffler, sadieb798



Category: Jeeves & Wooster, Jeeves - P. G. Wodehouse
Genre: Because fuck historical accuracy, Domestic Fluff, Each chapter can be read as a standalone, Established Relationship, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Happy Ending, M/M, No Period Typical Homophobia, Parenting 101, bertie and jeeves try their best, bringing up a child, miffy is adorable
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-08
Updated: 2020-11-25
Packaged: 2021-03-03 20:00:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 15,171
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24611146
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crookshanks_caught_the_niffler/pseuds/crookshanks_caught_the_niffler, https://archiveofourown.org/users/sadieb798/pseuds/sadieb798
Summary: I was bowled over, don’t you know! After all, it isn't every day that one’s man goes out and comes back with a kid.
Relationships: Reginald Jeeves/Bertram "Bertie" Wooster
Comments: 61
Kudos: 69





	1. Chapter 1

Things had been going just spiffing with Jeeves. 

We were living as two peas in a pod and everything was right in the world: no aged aunts trying to get me married off to a beazel nor too much trouble when pals of mine landed in the soup and came to Jeeves for a ladle when that damn telegram arrived. Of course, at the time we had been canoodling like a thing that canoodles when the buzz at the door interrupted us, so you can see why the telegram coming at that moment would have had us both miffed.

The telegram ended up being from a lawyer of some distant relative of Jeeves, alerting him to said d.r.’s passing, and that Jeeves had been given some such in the will.

Well, you could have hardly imagined when Jeeves went out that very afternoon to settle the matter and came back with a kid in tow how surprised I was! I was bowled over, don’t you know! After all, it isn't every day that one’s man goes out and comes back with a kid.

The kid was in fact a little girl, a tiny thing that could have been three for all I know since guessing children’s ages is not something I was good at, to begin with. She had a round-ish face, with big black curls that framed said face like a cherub, a pink mouth with her thumb stuck in it, and the biggest blue eyes I had ever seen. I had the thought that maybe Jeeves had gone out and bought a life-sized porcelain doll except she blinked at me, and out went that thought.

“I say, Jeeves!” I exclaimed, blinking.

“Sir?” he sir-ed, raising an eyebrow fractionally.

“Where did you get a kid from?”

“Mildred is her name, sir,” Jeeves replied delicately. “She was the daughter of my fifth-cousins on my father’s side, Harold and Lillian, and I have been entrusted as her guardian."

Well, I was speechless. A kid in our midst! While I got along fairly well with the juvenile populace, caring for them full time wasn't a task this Wooster felt he could do. While in the past I had harboured thoughts about adopting a sweet young girl, thoughts in that direction had fled after my disastrous speech at the girl's school. 

"I'm speechless, Jeeves,” I said, and I bally well was. It was all well and good to imagine adopting a young thing, but it was quite another to actually have said y.t. in one’s home. “A kid, living with us!”

Suddenly a thought entered the Wooster brain. Jeeves and I currently enjoyed a very comfortable arrangement that works perfectly, but how will it change with this kid?

“What of our arrangement, Jeeves?” I whispered, and I couldn’t help fidgeting slightly, thinking of all the horrible things that could happen, the first being Jeeves giving this Wooster the old heave-ho and hitching up with a beazel. “You can't deny that a kid in the midst will shake things up a bit.”

“I have been giving the matter some thought sir,” Jeeves replied respectfully, his face giving nothing away, dammit. “I suggest we discuss it later after I show Mildred her room."

I blinked down at the kid, it looked as though she hadn’t taken her eyes off me the entire time I had been addressing her cousin. I plastered on a sunny grin and offered her a cheery greeting, “What ho, Mildred!"

She continued to stare at me with those big blue eyes and to suck her thumb.

I can’t deny that I felt a bit sorry for the kid. After all, Bertram had been in the same posish as her not too long ago: sent from pillar to post to live with various relatives while my sister was packed off to boarding school after our parents' death. 

“Are you hungry, Mildred?” asked Jeeves, and she looked up at him and gave a tiny nod.

“Alright, Jeeves,” I said at last. “I’ll show her to the guest room while you can prepare a bite to eat.” I stepped forward and availed him of the suitcase he’d come back to the flat with.

Jeeves nodded agreeably and glided off, while I led Mildred to her room.

“So, Mildred, how old are you?” I asked, striking up a friendly conversation. After all, if she was to live in our home, it was only polite to get to know her.

She held up three fingers and answered in a tiny voice. “Thwee.”

I was pleased as punch that at least I had gotten her age right. “Well, this is your room,” I said, ushering her inside.

As she came through, her eyes were pensive as she took in the room while simultaneously sucking her thumb. The look in her e.s was so much like Jeeves that it was a bit unnerving to see it on a face as young as hers added with a digit in her mouth. I placed the suitcase on the bed for her to do with what she would, and she surprised me by climbing onto the bed and turned that stare back to me. A tad unnerving, this staring habit of hers.

I gave a parting smile and biffed off to talk to her cousin, leaving her to start unpacking. Jeeves was in the kitchen, assembling what looked like a sandwich.

“I say, Jeeves,” I said as I entered, strolling over to the table and leaning against it. “This is a bit thick. For a start, neither of us knows anything about childcare, and now here we are, having to take care of a tiny tot.”

“I had to frequently look after my siblings when I was a child, dearest,” he replied, not taking his eyes off the meat he was cutting. “And as such find myself well versed in the fairly arduous task of childcare."

"Is there anything you don't know about, my love?" I asked, pecking him on the cheek.

His mouth lifted a sixth of an inch. "We'll have to be more careful, Bertram, we can't risk being so open with our affections now that Mildred is living with us, until she's old enough to go to school at the very least. That is...if you're agreeable to her living with us?" He asked tentatively, his eyes pointedly still not looking at me.

"Of course, I'm more than willing to have her live with us!” I exclaimed, rushing to assure Jeeves and get that dashed tentativeness out of his voice where it didn’t belong. “I did long for a child at one point. Furthermore, I've been in her posish once, and can understand what she’s going through, poor thing."

As Jeeves was opening his mouth to reply, a loud CRASH! filled the room, interrupting him.

Jeeves and I shared a look and together ran out of the kitchen to see where the sound had come from.

It had come from the guest bedroom, where I’d left Mildred to unpack. The suitcase was now lying on the floor, having fallen from the bed and had burst open, spilling its contents all over the floor in the process. The bedcovers were pulled from the bed and had joined the suitcase. In the middle of the mess, almost buried in bedcovers, sat Mildred. 

“Is she hurt?” I asked Jeeves, somewhat alarmed. It would not do for one’s guest to be injured within an hour of crossing the Wooster threshold. Strangely, she wasn't crying or making an awful fuss, like other kids I’ve come across.

She shook her head and whispered, “No”. That was a relief, anyway and the old ticker settled down some.

“It looks like tots of three can’t unpack on their own,” I said, glancing around at the mess that had once been an immaculate room about five minutes ago. Jeeves had his stuffed frog face on. 

“If I may make a suggestion, sir,” Jeeves began a bit soupily. “Why don’t you take Mildred to the kitchen and feed her, while I organize this mess?”

Feeling as one does after disappointing a parental figure, a blush entered the Wooster cheek as I gave a nod. I went over to Mildred’s nest of blankets, untangled her from the pile, and lifted her into my arms.

She clutched at my cable-knit vest with one tiny fist while her thumb went right back into her mouth. Then she fixed her set of baby blues back onto me, and I felt as though I were being judged on what my next actions would be.

“Not to worry, Mildred,” I assured, giving her a friendly pat on the back. “Jeeves will sort us out.”

While she was eating the sandwich, I endeavoured to make conversion with her. It was only proper to know one’s guests, especially if they were to stay with self for the foreseeable future. 

“So, Mildred, do you have any siblings?” I asked.

She responded with a shake of the head.

I tried asking more questions, however, she wasn't the best conversational partner, which was understandable, given her tender years and the new surroundings. After she ate, she surprised me by nearly falling asleep right then and there on the table. I carried her to the now immaculate room and tucked her up, and biffed off to talk to Jeeves.

“Well, she’s tucked up in bed and is now in the land of Nod, dreaming about toys and whatsit,” I reported.

“She has had a very eventful day, Bertie,” Jeeves replied, pouring us a b. and s. 

“This is a sticky situation, but we shall emerge unsctahed,” I reasoned as he passed a glass of the good stuff to me. “After all, how hard can raising a child be?”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bertie and Jeeves settle down in their roles as parents

It had been a few weeks since Mildred joined our family, and settling down in the guardian role was easier than one thought initially. 

There were a few mishaps, of course. For starters, children should never be fed on sweet foods alone. I also learned children cannot be trusted with cigars, and a b. and s. should _never_ be anywhere near a tot's fingers. And the less said about keeping breakable objects in her vicinity, the better. After the third glass vase broke, Jeeves and I decided to regale them to the highest shelves, where they still looked splendid even at a safe distance.

The fellows at the Drones Club were tickled pink at the very notion of Bertie Wooster, one of Nature's bachelor's who usually did not get along well with the juvenile population, taking care of a _child._ I endured their ribbing good naturedly, adhering to the Code of the Woosters. Some of my closest pals such as Bingo, Biffy, and Ginger were fathers, and it was from them that I asked for advice. Lord knows I needed it.

Meanwhile, Mildred was settling in well. She was slowly getting over her shyness and was beginning to ask questions and voicing her opinions on books and daily activities. Because she was a young Jeeves, both her cousin and I agreed that her mind needed nurturing and decided to buy her Spinoza and Shakespeare and all those goody brain food, what? But whilst wandering the bookshelves, Mildred spotted those _Peter Rabbit_ books, and I must admit it didn’t take much convincing for me to buy up everything by Beatrix Potter as well as the latest _Sherlock Holmes_.

And so life continued merrily: Mildred would spend the days being read to, fed and generally doted upon by my man and I, while we two settled into a new routine as parents. It was all quite domestic and oojah-cum-spiff and all felt right in the world. Things took a bit of a turn one night, however, when after putting Mildred to bed, Jeeves and I were having a little coveted alone time of our own when there came a tiny knock at the bedroom door. 

Jeeves and I glanced at each other, worried. 

“I thought she was asleep,” Jeeves murmured.

I put on a robe, opened the door, and looked down to see Mildred, clutching her pillow in hand, looking tearful. 

“Why are you crying? Are you hurt?” I asked, as I picked her up, she latched onto me like one of those monkeys one sees clinging to their mothers at the zoo. My mind immediately began racing with possibilities. Was she ill? Did she get injured? 

She sniffled and hugged my neck tighter. “Bad dreams, Papa,” she murmured.

My heart clenched painfully in my chest. It was as though Lord Sidcup had wrapped his gargantuan hands around the thing and squeezed it to submission like one of those toys children squeezed and the thing's eyes popped out of its head. I was bally afraid I was going to expire on the spot! Her comment reminded me of the days after my parents’ death; I often woke up at ungodly hours in tears, missing them so much, my chest ached. My heart bled for the tot who was currently trying not to cry.

I tried to console her, petting her curls as I sat down on the bed and handed her to Jeeves. She went willingly enough, clinging to him just as tightly as she did me. He immediately took to the hair-petting wheeze with one hand, while the other one wrapped around her tiny frame.

“Are you alright, little one?” he asked quietly, his eyes concerned as they met mine over her shoulder.

She sniffled and shook her head slightly.

Mildred rested her head on Jeeves’s chest, her sobs slowly ebbing and I scooted closer to them. I decided the mood called for lightened hearts and roused spirits, so I began to murmur _Minnie the Moocher_. However, to my surprise, her eyelids began to droop and she was soon nodding off on Jeeves.

"Well, I say! Never thought that song would serve as a lullaby," I said, amazed. 

"It would appear she has tired herself from crying," Jeeves replied. 

I gently lifted her and placed her on the bed, between Jeeves and I. In the moonlight, she looked even smaller, curled up and tucked under the covers. I sighed, parenting can take its toll on one occasionally.

In that instant, a thought filtered through the Wooster bean and I gasped.

"What is it?" whispered Jeeves, his hand reaching across Mildred’s small form to touch mine - my hand, that is.

"Mildred called me Papa!" I very nearly exclaimed, but mid-way through turned it into a whisper in case I disturbed the little girl between us.

I wasn't sure how I felt about it. I _did_ want her to feel comfortable enough to call me papa, but I was sure she didn't mean it. After all, the tot had just had a nightmare, and additionally as she was sleepy and scared when she came to us, the evidence pointed to this papa-calling being a one-off incident. Reading Sherlock Holmes and other spine-tinglers had its benefits, don’t you know.

"Reg?" I quietly asked, as his eyes had drifted shut.

"Yes, my love?" he said, and the peepers opened again, as clear and intelligent as ever, as though the things had no need for such things as sleep.

"Do I happen to resemble her father in any way?” I murmured. “I mean, what other reason can there be for her calling me papa?"

"I couldn’t say, Bertie. The last time I saw Harold, he was shorter than you, and had jet black hair and grey eyes," replied Jeeves.

"So that's a no, then,” I sighed and curled closer towards her, my hand coming up and rubbing her back gently. “Ah well, likely she was just scared, sleepy and confused."

Choosing not to dwell on it any longer, I shut my eyes in an effort to catch the required forty winks.

*********

But as the week wore on, this proved not to be an isolated incident after all.

Every night, Mildred woke us up in the same fashion, coming to our room, crying and eventually falling asleep on Jeeves's chest.

"I say, Jeeves," I I-sayed. "This won't do at all. She needs to sleep properly without being plagued by nightmares and whatsit."

"I may have an idea to reduce the frequency of her nightmares. I believe she needs to be distracted before going to sleep, by the aid of stories."

"I think some Sherlock Holmes will distract her nicely before going to bed, don't you think?"

Jeeves’s lips twitched up into a smile. "I was thinking more in line of Miss Potter’s books, Bertie. Sherlock Holmes might have the opposite effect."

"Hmm, I see what you mean,” I replied. “That stuff isn't for the impressionable young kids, especially _The Hound of the Baskervilles,_ or _The Three Garridebs._ She’d have nightmares like nobody’s business, and we might never get sleep."

“Indeed, dearest.”

“Best to save the mysteries for when she’s older, what?” I asked, smiling.

The stuffed frog look came into my dear one’s face. “I think not, my own,” he replied soupily.

I chuckled, tucking the argument away to be looked at sometime in the far off future.

So, that night when it was time to tuck Mildred up, Jeeves and I read her some stories which seemed to revolve around ducks and foxes. Sounded a bit rummy to me, after all the story of that fox and duck weren’t quite so different to the more spine-tingling action in a good mystery, but she hung onto every word, eyes wide and open mouthed. 

After the last word was read and the book closed, she sighed and said in a quiet voice, "one more story please".

My heart practically melted and I very nearly reached for another, but Jeeves remained firm. After a brief struggle with words, more for the sake of argument than actually wanting another story, I think, Mildred finally slept.

"Here's hoping she sleeps well tonight," I said, sipping the rejuvenating b. and s. as Jeeves and I retired to bed.

"I hope so too, love," Jeeves replied, leaning closer and pressing a peck on the old Wooster bean.

And don’t you know, it worked! She slept peacefully and nothing was heard from her room till the next day.

She came bounding into the master bedroom just as Jeeves was delivering the life-giving oolong, her curls bouncing around freely and her blue eyes bright and cheery.

"What ho, Mildred! How did you sleep? No bad dreams, I hope?" I asked while sipping at my tea.

"No papa, I slept good,” she replied, climbing up onto the bed to snuggle against me. 

“Well, Mildred,” Jeeves corrected, arranging the tea tray to take back into the kitchen. “You slept _well.”_

“I slept well,” she dutifully parroted before turning her blue peepers back on me. “Can we read Jemima Duck today?"

There it was again! I was pretty surprised to learn that this ‘papa’ wheeze was continuing, but I let it slide off the Wooster back like a waterfowl.

"Of course we can," I said with a smile.

I nipped off to the Drones after breakfast, which I've been doing less frequently these days. Looking after a child can be quite time-consuming, and one feels more drawn to the comforts of home and hearth, but there are occasions where Jeeves and I need time away for ourselves, and today my time was to be spent amongst those old chums of mine.

After drinking a refreshing cocktail, I was on my way home when I happened upon a toy shop. The shop window displayed a stuffed toy duck that bore an uncanny resemblance to that Jemima Puddle Duck Mildred has grown rather attached to since yesterday. It was the work of a moment to nip in and buy it, and armed with the toy, I made my way homewards.

When I arrived, Mildred was curled up against Jeeves’s side listening attentively as Jeeves read her that very duck’s book.

“Papa!” she exclaimed when I walked through the door. Mildred raced from the chesterfield and latched onto my leg while Jeeves shimmered beside me and took hat and whangee.

“What ho, little one! " I replied, smiling and giving her a pat on the head.

“Welcome home, sir,” Jeeves said, purely for appearance’s sake, don’t you know. Though he put on the usual feudal spirit, his eyes said _hello my lovely, you look ravishing._

“What’s that?” Mildred asked, trying to take the parcel tucked under my arm and drawing my attention away from her cousin.

I handed her the package. “Why don’t you open it?” I asked.

She eagerly ripped it open, her eyes bright with excitement and she squealed in delight when she saw the duck. "Jemima Duck!! Thank you, Papa!" Mildred held it up for Jeeves’s inspection. “Look, Gee!” she shouted, her smile so wide it made the corners of her eyes crinkle.

“I see it, my dear,” Jeeves replied, smiling softly. The scene was so soft and endearing, I was sure that if it was in one of those pictures, the audience's collective hearts would’ve melted just as mine was doing that mo.

That night, Mildred insisted on snuggling in bed with Jemima while I read her story to her. After she went to sleep, a good night of ravishing was had by Jeeves and I. All was well in the Wooster household.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A belated Father's Day ficlet , enjoy!

I am a light sleeper by nature.

However, with a combination of decades of service, as well as the years spent in Mr. Wooster’s service where I spent many nights ensuring that my Bertram made it to bed safely after a night of revelry at his club, these had affected my sleeping patterns to the extent that any little noise would rouse me from my slumber in an instant.

I say this, as Bertram would say, to ‘set the scene’ of the night in question. It had been a few months since I became guardian to my cousin-cum-daughter Mildred, and we three had settled nicely domestically. In the time, we had gotten accustomed to the other’s habits, and navigating around each other had begun to be simplicity in itself.

That being said, I was naturally surprised when I was awoken by the sound of a crash coming from the kitchen.

I tried not to wake Bertie as I carefully untangled myself from my love’s slumbering embrace. I pulled on a robe and went quickly to investigate the source of the crash. When I entered the kitchen, and my eyes immediately set on Mildred standing on a chair at the stove, trying to light the gas with a lit match.

“Mildred!” I exclaimed, startling her into dropping the match. I raced towards the stove and quickly turned off the gas. I didn’t smell carbon monoxide in the air, but I took the precaution of throwing open the kitchen window and immediately the sounds of London rushed to fill the room.

I sighed with relief and turned to face my daughter. My eyes quickly swept over her: Mildred’s curls were unruly and she was still dressed in the nightdress with tiny ducklings Bertie had dressed her in the night before, but otherwise, she appeared unharmed. The source of the crash appeared to have been a pot that had been inadvertently knocked over the counter and onto the floor.

I took a deep breath and mentally counted to one hundred as a further measure to settle my nerves. 

“My dear, what were you doing?” I asked gently, crouching down to be at eye-level with her.

“Trying to light the gas,” Mildred replied, a line appeared between her brows and her eyes were unsure as they met mine.

"Never touch anything that can potentially create flame unsupervised," I told her.

She nodded, but the uncertainty was still there in her eyes. Mildred, by nature, is a curious child. Bertie attributes this to her being a Jeeves and inheriting a hungry mind, therefore with this in mind, I elaborated.

“If unsupervised, you could start a fire,” I explained, raising a hand and gently cupping her cheek. “And that would be very dangerous, potentially harming you and others. Papa and I don’t want you to get hurt, my dear one, so please don’t ever play with matches again.”

“Okay,” she replied with a firm nod. I could see understanding in her eyes and felt calmer.

"What were you trying to do?" I asked.

"Today is Father's Day so I was trying to surprise you and Papa with breakfast!" she exclaimed, her blue eyes sparkling brightly.

I was stunned and could not help blinking at her.

"Who told you about Father's Day?" I asked, curious as I knew neither I nor Bertie had mentioned anything of the sort.

"Nanny told me yesterday when we went to the park!” she said. “And I wanted to surprise you and Papa."

That explained why she was so excited yesterday when she had returned home with Mrs. Spencer.

"Why don’t we tidy up and make Papa some tea?" I delicately suggested, holding out my hand.

The suggestion was met with enthusiastic affirmative and we set about our task. Some fifteen minutes later, a cup of tea in hand, we set off to the bedroom.

As we passed through the sitting room, I glanced at the clock on the mantle and saw that it was half-past eight. I deduced that instead of rising at my usual hour at six, Mildred’s nearly-disastrous attempt at breakfast woke me at seven. While I usually wake early to perform my duties, I must admit sleeping with one's lover results in a lack of desire to leave the bed, but I would endeavor to keep to my schedule in case Mildred decided to try again.

Once we entered the master bedroom, Mildred raced through and climbed on the bed, yelling “Wake up, Papa!”, despite me imploring her to be quiet.

Bertie woke up slowly, groaning. “What time is it, Jeeves?” he asked, his voice hoarse from the night before.

I stifled a smile. “Half-past eight, love.”

“Eight?” he exclaimed around a wide yawn. “Is there a national disaster?”

Before I could explain, Mildred launched herself on to Bertie, landing on top of his stomach. His face contorted with pain, and he gave a slight “oof” at the sudden weight.

“Happy Father’s Day, Papa!” she yelled, smiling wide and wrapping her arms around his neck.

Bertie’s brow furrowed with confusion. “What?” he asked, but dutifully returned the embrace.

“I believe Mildred is wishing you a happy Father’s Day, love.”

“Father's Day? Who told you about that?"

"Mrs. Spencer did," I explained as I handed him his tea.

“Wait here, Papa and Daddy! And close your eyes!” Mildred commanded as she clambered out of bed and raced out of the room.

Bertie and I smiled at each other, and I couldn’t help but to lean down and kiss him. “Good morning,” I murmured against his lips.

“Morning, old fruit,” Bertie replied, smiling beatifically up at me.

When we heard footsteps approaching the bedroom, we both closed our eyes.

“Surprise!” Mildred exclaimed, and I opened my eyes.

"Oh, I say," Bertie whispered, his eyes shining with tears.

Mildred stood at my side, holding out a card to us. It was plentifully decorated with glitter, and in shaky letters was written 'Happy Father's Day, I love you, Mildred' followed by coloured hearts.

I admit my eyes moistened as I took it gently in my hand.

"Do you like it?" Miffy asked eagerly, her already big eyes were impossibly larger.

Bertie was the first to recover. He reached out and hugged her. "I love it, dear!" he exclaimed, his smile possibly the biggest I had ever seen it.

"Thank you for making this, little one," I said. There may have been a tear in my eye as she smiled up at me. 

Soon enough we were all ensconced in the bed, Mildred already beginning to fall asleep on Bertie's shoulder between us.

"I must say, that was wholly unexpected," Bertie said in a hushed voice, carefully rearranging her curls.

"Indeed, dearest,” I replied. “I wasn't aware of what she was doing until she woke me with a crash from the kitchen."

Bertie looked down at the slumbering child, a small smile on his lips and a tenderness in his gaze. "That was dashed thoughtful of her."

I agreed with a smile.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bertie, Jeeves and Mildred travel to Brinkley Court, Mildred found ducks and Bertie and Jeeves have a disagreement

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the slow update, this chapter was a tad tough to write and life got in the way. Enjoy!

* * *

“Good morning, Jeeves.”

“Good morning, sir,” Jeeves replied soupily.

You might be thinking, _what’s with all this sir_ _business? I thought all things were oojah-cum-spiff in the Wooster household, what is with Jeeves’s frosty reception? Wooster, you fathead what did you do?!_

In which case, you would be absolutely right! Something _has_ happened, dash it!

It all started, as arguments usually do between Jeeves and I, with me bringing home yet another fruity article of clothing - but this time it was not for Bertram. I had bought a rather dashing cape emblazoned with a duck print in the brightest yellow, and silk socks for Mildred. Naturally, Jeeves had taken offence to it, as was his wont.

Mildred liked it, and had insisted on wearing it when we went to visit my aunt Dahlia’s pile of bricks at Brinkley Court. Jeeves had donned the stuffed frog face while interacting with the y.m. and that had been that.

"I wonder why the aged relation summoned us?" I wondered aloud as we sat across each other in our own train car to Brinkley. "Hopefully, it's not more pinching of cow creamers, this Wooster has had enough of that."

"Indeed, sir?"

Mildred was so excited she could hardly sit still, this being her first visit to the country. "Papa, Jeeves, will there be ducks?"

I had no recollection of any ducks in the vicinity, but Jeeves assured her there might be.

We arrived at Brinkley Court around evening, just in time for Anatole's supper.

"What ho, blood relation!" I called when I saw my aunt.

"Hello, young blot,” she bellowed. “Fancy you being a father!"

Mildred was hiding behind Jeeves's legs, and I made a point of nudging her forward for my aunt’s examination. Instantly Aunt Dahlia's demeanor changed: her booming voice she’d used to command the hunt was gentle and docile as she addressed Mildred.

"And who is this pretty young lady?" she asked, bending down to Mildred’s height.

"I'm Mildred Jeeves, ma'am," she whispered. 

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Mildred. Now would you like to go to your room with your fathers, or would you like to see the pond?"

Almost instantly Mildred lost her shyness. "Pond? Are there ducks?" She asked excitedly, her eyes bright and dazzling as a sapphire.

"Yes of course,” the aged relation informed her. “It’s just out that door.”

In a flash, Mildred ran in the direction of the aforementioned pond, barely pausing to tell us "See you later, Papa, Jeeves!"

"Now, young blot,” began Aunt Dahlia, rising to her full height. “Do you have to dress the poor child in that manner?"

"Now, aunt, am I correct in assuming you too, have taken offence at Mildred's fruity cape?" I asked, a touch offended.

"I know Jeeves would have never bought that, let alone dress someone in it."

"I regret to say that I have had limited success, madam," Jeeves informed her, looking torn up about it.

I say, this was just a bit too much! Was a man never allowed to wear or buy clothes he likes without the approval of his valet _and_ his aunt? 

"Well, I'll have you know that she loves it! In fact, she insisted on wearing it today!" I said, and I meant it to sting.

Aunt Dahlia looked skeptical but she let it slide.

* * *

We didn't get a glimpse of Mildred till dinner time, and at that point when she made it to her room, she was so caked in mud like a thing that's caked in mud that she was barely recognizable.

Jeeves took one look at her and his eyebrows shot up by three inches, which is akin to him being aghast. 

"Where have you been?" Jeeves asked her, with a tinge of steel in his voice.

“I found ducks! And baby ducks!” Mildred exclaimed, a grin on her face. “And I fell in the pond, and-”

“You _fell in the pond?_ ” Jeeves and I shrieked in unison. 

Mildred seemed unconcerned. “Yes, and I got out all by myself!” 

“Always be careful while around a water source," Jeeves told her seriously, but I could see the panic in his eyes.

Mildred nodded, still excited.

"And maybe tomorrow we can all go to the pond to see the ducklings?" I suggested. It would not do to leave tots of three to wander off falling into ponds.

Jeeves cleaned Mildred up while I got into the soup and fish, and, clad thusly, went off to dinner. Self to the dining room, and Mildred and Jeeves to the servants quarters, as she wished to dine with Jeeves.

Dinner was another one of Anatole’s gastronomic triumphs. 

“Where’s Mildred?” asked Aunt Dahlia between courses.

“Having dinner with Jeeves,” I replied.

“She’s such a delightful child, and seems to take after Jeeves,” Aunt Dahlia practically cooed. “Did she enjoy the country?”

“She certainly finds the countryside interesting, she is a young Jeeves after all,” I informed her. “What with falling in ponds and whatsit.”

“She _what?”_ Aunt Dahlia screeched.

“Apparently, she fell into a pond while chasing ducks.”

“Bertie, you clout!” Aunt Dahlia exclaimed, fuming like that volcano in Pompeii. “You let her go _alone?!_ That pond isn't the shallowest, she could have _drowned!”_

“Now, Aged A - ” I tried, a sinking feeling starting up in my chestal region.

“No, you listen here, you young blister,” Aunt Dahlia, turning her eyes on me, blazing like fire and brimstone. “Jeeves - for whatever reason that is beyond my capabilities - trusts you with his child, and Mildred _is_ his child, don’t you forget that. 

“This makes _you_ partially responsible for her too. Jeeves may be a marvel, but he simply _cannot_ take care of you, _and_ that little girl at the same time, so you must pull your weight. If something happened to that girl, Jeeves would leave you in a heartbeat, and I wouldn’t blame him! If you intend to leave the child to her own devices, she must _not_ be left alone. _You,_ my abysmal chump, must take charge of her! And if you cannot, hire a nanny, for goodness’s sake!"

“We have one,” I mumbled, dumbstruck.

“Well, what are you waiting for?! Next time, bring her with you!” And with that, Aunt Dahlia attacked her meal with renewed vigor, tearing into the meat like a lioness into the hide of a wildebeest.

The enormity of the situation began to dawn on me. I would be crushed if something happened to poor Mildred, and I realized that it hadn’t been too long since her own parents died. Between taking care of the kid, and Jeeves and I adjusting to her presence, I had forgotten the circs. of how she landed in our laps. I knew as an adult what it had been like to lose my parents at a young age, and in that sense Mildred and I were kindred spirits, but what of as an adult losing a _child_ at a young age? A cold shiver went down my spine, freezing my stomach and other necessary organs.

Falling into stray ponds when one’s an adult isn’t a safe activity, therefore why didn’t I take that into consideration when I left Mildred, a child who doesn’t even know how to swim, alone? What would we do if Jeeves ever decided to take Mildred with him on his vacation and she fell out of his fishing boat? And Jeeves couldn’t get to her in time?

Aunt Dahlia was still brooding over it, muttering curses aimed at me, but her lecture left me in such a headsping, my thoughts and anxieties chasing and toppling over each other in circles.

“You’ve left me much to think over, old ancestor,” I told her.

She nodded, satisfied. “Good. Now pass the dinner rolls.”

* * *

After dinner, I went off in search of Mildred, as it was almost her bedtime. It was whilst I was in the garden, I heard a delicate cough like that of a wooly ram on a distant hillock.

“Sir?”

I turned around and there stood Jeeves with Mildred, her little hand clutched in his. She looked liable to drop on the spot due to pure exhaustion.

“There you are, Jeeves. How did dinner go?” I asked, picking Mildred up. She went willingly, and clutched my neck, her legs wrapping around my torso, and giving a soft sigh that tickled my ear.

“Very good, sir. Everyone was pleased with her, and she wishes to bake with Anatole tomorrow.”

"I'm going to make cakes!” she piped up, giving one last valiant burst of energy. “I like the country, Papa," she muttered before nodding off.

While the country _did_ hold many pleasures, having to keep my relationship with Jeeves a secret was a bit of a wrench, not to mention all the anxieties I had over Mildred’s safety left me wary of shadows, aware of danger lurking around every corner like a burglar.

"Well, I'd better go and put her to bed," I said, cradling her gently. I was so shaken by my talk with Aunt Dahlia that I had clean forgotten Jeeves and I were in the middle of a battle of wills. I leaned close to him, as customary when receiving my good night kiss.

"Goodnight, little one," Jeeves whispered instead and glided off.

I stared after him, watching him go and gave a forlorn sigh.

* * *

The morning was clear and bright. And I was woken up some hours earlier than I would've liked, by a very excited three-year-old.

"Papa, wake up! We have to go to the pond!”

Before I could reply, Jeeves glided in with the life-restoring oolong. 

"Good morning, sir,” he said, his stuffed frog face still firmly fixed in place. 

I was _hurt_ don’t you know! Here I was considered for our daughter’s safety and my anxiety was such that I was likely to leap at anything from a butterknife at tea time to an owl, and I needed some comfort from Jeeves. But said s.c.f.J. was nowhere in sight! Jeeves was still upset over this tratted gift for Mildred that he was positively frosty towards me! Well! We’d see who’d be the first to crack, and it wouldn’t be this Wooster!

"Morning, Jeeves," I said, and I meant it to sting. 

After putting on the outer crust, I tottered down to the garden with Mildred, who was intent on showing me all the spots where she had played yesterday. 

* * *

Soon after, Mildred disappeared to her room to colour or some such, and I was so exhausted I flopped down onto the bed of my own room. Nothing was heard of her till lunch, when she crept out of her room furtively. 

Now I've read enough Sherlock Holmes to know that when one is creeping along furtively, one must want to conceal something. _Especially_ when one looks guilty, which was just so in Mildred’s case.

"I say Mildred, what are you doing?" I queried.

"Nothing!" she said, a tad too quickly.

I frowned, but I would've let the matter slide if it hadn't been for Jeeves.

He shimmered in, looking bronzed and fit as always. It had been too long since Jeeves and I had had a moment alone, and just the sight of him had my heart aflutter. Jeeves, meanwhile, emerged from the young mistress’s bedroom, with her duckling cape in hand. But it wasn’t until he held it out that I saw there were splatters of green paint all over it!

I was floored, don’t you know! The child had ruined a perfectly good cape! And all because I had been too tired and shirked my responsibility in supervising her!

"Now, Mildred, _why_ did you paint your cape?" he asked calmly, though one could see a tinge of disbelief in his e.s.

She looked as if she was about to cry. 

"I didn't mean to,” Mildred said to her shoes. “You and Papa was angry - "

I was stunned, as if Spode had struck the Wooster bean with a vase. 

"Hold on, let's backtrack a bit, darling,” I told her. I knelt down to her eye level, forcing her blue peepers to meet mine. “Me and Jeeves are not happy?"

Jeeves coughed like a sheep on a distant hill. "It would appear that she has picked up on our difference in opinion," he said delicately, a tad of a blush on his damask cheek.

“I painted it so you and Jeeves would make up," she confirmed, fixing her eyes back on her black buckled shoes.

I blinked a stray tear away. The posish reminded one of those picture shows, where the child took it into their hands to try to set matters right. Not unlike the time Jeeves and I trained a kid to say “Kiss Freddie” for a pal of mine to make up with his lady love.

I rushed to embrace her, paying no heed to paint covered fingers now gripping my jacket. "But we weren't angry at you, duckling!" I assured, tightening my grip around her tiny body. She pulled away briefly and I could see the tears in her eyes.

“You weren’t?” she asked, one such tear dripping down to her little chin.

Jeeves placed a hand on her shoulder, drawing her attention. "My dear, Papa and I often argue, but that is never because of you."

“Not at all,” I agreed. “Jeeves and I are both strong-willed men that sometimes we lock horns. If that’s the word I want,” I added, a touch sheepishly.

“It is, sir,” Jeeves confirmed, briefly meeting my gaze.

Mildred nodded, looking very pensive and I could see that that brilliant Jeevsian brain of hers was hard at work.

“Can I go bake cakes with Anatole?” she asked.

I smiled dotingly down at her, but looked to Jeeves.

“May I,” he gently corrected, straightening up to his full height.

“May I?” she asked again, batting those big blue eyes at him.

“You may,” he nodded, and she rushed to the door.

“Ah, Mildred, let’s clean you up first, my duckling,” I suggested, swiftly stopping her from staining the door with green fingerprints.

After she was deemed cleaned and told to mind the stairs, she went off on her merry way towards the kitchens.

Once we were alone again, I looked at my man.

"I say, I never thought she would notice. Were we _that_ obvious?" I asked, chewing on my lower lip, worry nibbling at my stomach.

"Perhaps she noticed the lack of physical contact,” he replied thoughtfully.

I grinned. "Well, how about we change that now?" I asked, opening my arms.

The corner of his lips twitched an inch and I knew at once all was forgiven. I practically melted into his embrace, welcoming his kisses with relish.

"I suppose you are pleased she destroyed the cape though,” I said, pulling away briefly to look into his face.

My man didn't say anything, but his eyes said all. I chuckled and curled up once again in his arms, giving him a forgiving squeeze around the waist.

We were rudely interrupted from our embrace by the gong of the lunch bell.

"I say, how about we go back to the old homestead tomorrow, where interruptions are scant?" I asked.

My man's lips twitched. "I'm agreeable, dear."

“I have also been thinking, Jeeves, that perhaps we ought to give Mildred swimming lessons,” I said. “And discuss possibly hiring Mrs. Spencer more often.”

“All possibilities we can discuss once we are home, dearest,” he agreed and gave me a peck on the lips. I confess the touch of lips sent a tingle down to my toes and I sighed.

We descended to the dining room, where Mildred was excitedly chattering about baking to Aunt Dahlia.

Watching them made my heart swell. I had never thought I would be part of a family, given my preferences, but here I was, with a lover _and_ a kid. It was pretty spiffing. 


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aunt Agatha meets Mildred

"Good morning, dear."

"Good morning, dearest," I murmured, snuggling against my man.

It was barely seven ack emma, and the y.m. would usually be getting the forty winks. But Jeeves had awoken, and thus I had awoken in spite of his efforts to not awaken me.

"Must you get up now? It's so early," I whispered, tightening my hold on him.

"I'm afraid I have to, dear. Nanny Spencer will be coming along soon."

"Dash Nanny Spencer," I said while kissing him.

At that moment, Mildred came running in and leapt on the bed, despite Jeeves's admonishments.

"Good morning Papa, Jeeves!" she yelled as she hugged us.

"Morning, dearest," I greeted around a yawn.

"Shall we get you dressed and ready for your walk, Mildred?" Jeeves asked, sliding from beneath the covers.

Mildred nodded and they went off, leaving me to continue slumbering. But sleeping without my man wasn't as great, and I was awake and drinking the oolong at 9 am.

"The weather is clement, with a hint of cirrus clouds," Jeeves reported from his post beside our bed.

I sighed contentedly as I began to work on the e. and b. All was right in this Wooster’s world: the sun was shining, the birds were singing and I wasn't in the soup.

It was at this precise moment that Jeeves decided to drop the bombshell.

"You have a telegram, Bertie."

I groaned. "Oh, tell me it isn't Aunt Dahlia, asking me to pinch more silver for her. Or Florence wanting me to steal policemen's helmets."

"I'm afraid this telegram is from Mrs. Gregson."

The world was plunged in darkness and the last trace of happiness fled from the room, no doubt pursued by vicious man-eating bears.

"A-Aunt Agatha? What the devil does she want? " I exclaimed, waving the unopened telegram at my man. "Here, Jeeves, you read it and tell me what she wants."

Jeeves skimmed through the blasted piece of paper, his face giving nothing away. "It would appear she wishes you to meet a young lady of her acquaintance."

I groaned again. "When will her attempts to marry me off cease?" 

"I couldn't say, Bertram,” he replied soupily.

Gloomily, I donned the outer crust of the English gentleman. While Jeeves had fished me out of my previous engagements, it would not do for Mildred to be a part of me evading marriage. No, this time I had to be firm and tell my aunt A that no, I would never marry. 

* * *

I nipped down to the Drones for some liquid courage and for support from my pals.

Alas, said support never arrived, for as soon as I set foot in the Drones, I was accosted by Freddie, who had yet again fallen in love and was busy expounding on her virtues and how to make him worthy of her.

"Bertie, I was just looking for you, old thing! I've fallen in love!"

I stifled a sigh, it wouldn't be very preux of me to disregard his feelings.

"This is the tenth time this year you've fallen in love."

"Yes, but this is the real thing! Her name is Elizabeth and she's a goddess!"

He continued on in this vein for a good ten minutes before I was able to inform him of my Aunt Agatha's arrival.

"Oh, that's hard luck. Does she know about Mildred?" 

I groaned. "No, I hoped that she never had to find out but my hopes were too high."

Around lunch, I left the Drones and ankled it to my place, fervently hoping the dreaded visitor wouldn't have arrived.

Fortunately, she hadn't, and I was able to lunch in peace with Jeeves and Mildred.

"Papa, Nanny and me went to the park and I gave bread to the ducks!"

"Nanny and I, dear," Jeeves corrected.

She stared at him in confusion. "But you weren't there with us, Jeeves." 

I chuckled as Jeeves patiently explained what he meant. This was my family, and I wasn't going to give it up without a fight!

* * *

I just had a w. and s., light on the s. for some liquid courage when the doorbell rang shrilly.

I braced myself for the inevitable clashing of swords. Taking a deep breath, I went to the drawing room to greet my aunt. And, to my surprise, a beazel with blonde hair and brown eyes was with her.

"Ah, Bertram! I would like you to meet Elaine Spears. Miss Spears, this is Bertram Wooster, my nephew."

I say, dash it! My aunt had actually bought the beazel with her! I felt faint, but I rallied like the ancestors of Agincourt. 

"I say, Aunt Agatha!" I I-sayed. and paused. A sudden thought had drifted into the Wooster bean.

"I say! I've seen you!" I said to this Miss Spears beazel.

Aunt Agatha harrumphed. "Do try to speak clearly, Bertram," she snapped, as is her wont.

"Miss Spears, have I seen you come along with Nanny - er, Mrs. Spencer once?"

Miss Spears grinned. "Oh yes, Mr. Wooster! She's my aunt, and I so dearly wanted to meet Mildred! My aunt speaks very highly of her, so I accompanied her and Mildred once on their daily walks."

Now that she mentioned it, I did remember Mildred talking about the "pretty, nice blonde lady" once.

My aunt looked mildly confused, which was an expression that rarely graced her bone-munching countenance. "Bertram, who is this Mildred?" 

I gulped. It was dashed difficult to explain when under that rattlesnake glare of my aunt, which has the effect of making the y.m. feel as though he had just been caught stealing cookies from the Principal's personal stash. 

"I - Mildred is my daughter." 

The aged R.'s eyes bulged and her mouth tightened ominously. "Bertram! Am I to understand you have a child? And who is the mother?”

I tried to keep my voice steady. "Her mother - that is to say, her parents - died recently. Mildred is Jeeves's cousin.”

Aunt Agatha looked as though she was going to explode. And right at that moment, in walked Jeeves and Mildred, returned from their walk.

Mildred began to run towards me, but Jeeves held her back.

Aunt Agatha took on the resemblance of a dyspeptic pekinese, her eyes bulging and her mouth a thin line. "Do you mean to say, you consider yourself to be the parent of this child? A servant's relation? I always knew you weren't intelligent, which is why I wished you to marry and breed children! Now I can see you've clearly been taken advantage of by scheming servants!"

From the corner of my eye, I could see Jeeves and Mildred. My man’s face was a blank mask as usual, but I could see the rage simmering beneath. Poor Mildred was confused and, not having nearly the same years as Jeeves, she was visibly upset.

Aunt Agatha was still in full flow. "Think of your poor parents, Bertram! Think of the shame they would feel if they were still with us! The least you could do is honour their wish for you to marry well."

All of a sudden, Mildred dashed forward and put herself between me and my aunt. 

"You're being very rude!” she exclaimed, her blue eyes bright with fury. “That is my Papa, and you're being very rude to him!"

Jeeves raised his eyebrows a quarter of an inch, which is akin to him being suckerpunched in the solar plexus. I was so stunned, I froze. Talk about the impossible happening! A tot of three arguing with Aunt Agatha - who eats glass bottles for breakfast! It seemed like something out of Only A Factory Girl.

Aunt Agatha looked triumphant. 

"This is precisely what I knew would happen! Only someone as this - this - wretch would have the nerve to address me in such an uncivilised manner! But it's not too late, Bertram. You can easily marry, and free yourself from the clutches of...them." 

Mildred shrank in on herself, she clutched at the front of her dress, her mouth dipped down into a frown and a tear began to well up in her eyes. My blood was now up. I can put up with a lot of things, but this made me put my foot down.

"Aunt Agatha, you've come to my home and insulted me in every way possible. But I draw the line at insulting my daughter."

She blinked in astonishment, no doubt the last thing she expected was me contradicting her.

"For years, you've been forcing me to do your bidding,” I started, gaining steam like a locomotive. “If not for Jeeves, I wouldn't have had the willpower to get out of the engagements which you forced on me.”

Aunt Agatha made a sound like a spitting cat. "I've always said he never had your best interests at heart - "

Undeterred, I continued. "I do not wish to marry anyone. I have my family with me and I am perfectly content."

"But - two men together! Raising a child! Your position in society will be tattered - "

"I certainly do not care about my position in society,” I told her and I meant it to sting, and from the way she clutched at her pearls, my verbal blow had hit the target right on the bally nose. “I think it has already been tarnished by my constant refusal of engagements."

"It's unnatural!” she cried, her face beginning to take on a shade of blue. “Your poor parents would be heartbroken if they were alive to witness this! Two men living as lovers is wicked and unnatural!"

My heart sped and anxiety began to creep in the Wooster coconut. The constant mentioning of my parents certainly was doing its job of getting in the chinks of my armour, and my Aunt knew this. But I would not give in to her.

"I really do not give a whit about your opinion, Aunt Agatha. If you really cannot bear the sight of me happy, you need not visit or contact me or my family ever again. Good day."

It was the first time I had refrained from using my customary "toodle-pip" and I was mildly surprised. Not as surprised as my aunt though; she looked flabbergasted.

"Bertram, I -"

At that moment, Jeeves shimmered forward with her coat and hat. “Mrs. Gregson,” was all he said as he all but shoved her out of the door.

I turned to face Miss Spears, who had been watching the entire exchange and whom I had completely forgotten about. "Sorry about that, Miss Spears," I said with a mirthless laugh. 

And don’t you know she didn’t faint, or throw herself onto the floor in hysterics, or toss a shoe at Bertram’s head, or look in any way put out by a dissolved almost-engagement. She simply shrugged.

"I knew you weren't interested in marriage, but your aunt forced me to visit you,” she said matter-of-factly, like the sky was blue, or Fink-Nottle’s love newts, or ties with little horseshoes ought to be burned.

"Ah well, no harm done, Miss Spears."

Miss Spears rolled her eyes, smiling. “Elaine, please. You know my aunt, and I am well acquainted with yours - I think we’re on a first name basis now, don’t you?”

I smiled, relief going through the Wooster Corpus. “Elaine then. Please call me Bertie.”

At that moment, I felt a tug on the hem of my jacket and looked down to see little Mildred. She had her thumb stuck into her mouth and regarded me intently.

“Yes, dearest?” I asked, kneeling down beside her. In all the fire and brimstone, I had forgotten one of the people I had shoved my aunt over for. I was gratified to see she didn’t have a tear in the old baby blues, but I admit to being a little confused about the thumb sucking as I had thought Jeeves and I kicked her of that habit.

“Papa, can Miss Elaine and I go to the park?” she asked, momentarily taking her thumb out of her plush little mouth.

A warmth filled my body so completely, that I was very nearly ready to burst with love for Mildred. How could anyone think of this child as anything less than perfect? “Only if Miss Elaine says it’s alright,” I told her.

My little girl turned to my new friend and she gave Mildred a bright smile. “Yes, of course it’s alright,” Elaine said cheerfully.

After hugging Mildred tightly, handshakes and toodle pips exchanged, I flopped down on the chesterfield, feeling like a limp noodle.

Jeeves shimmered in with a b. and s. and I gratefully gulped it down.

"I say, Jeeves, that was quite the experience,” I said.

It was only when my man sat down beside me, barely shifting the weight of the chesterfield and held my hands in his that I realized my hands were shaking. 

"I'm extremely proud of you, my dear," he murmured and planted a smacker on the lips.

"I can't believe I finally stood up to her! I had to, with what she said about you and Mildred." My anger slowly began to creep in again, and I felt like a kettle boiling. "The bally nerve of her! Storming into my flat with yet another beazel in tow, and insulting an innocent child and you. How dare she!" I nearly yelled, throwing my hand out and almost spilling the precious b. and s.

Jeeves began to rub my back soothingly. "But you stood up to her and defended us, even though you are scared of her."

I finally voiced the thought that had been niggling in the back of my mind all this while. "Reg, do you think my parents would be ashamed of me, if they saw me now?" I asked quietly and was proud that my voice barely shook.

I was immediately wrapped into a hug, big arms engulfing me and my nose pressed against my beloved’s neck. "I'm sure they would be exceedingly pleased to see their son happy and well, with a family,” Jeeves replied, his voice rumbling soothingly. I closed my eyes and clung to him.

Soon after, Mildred returned, running to hug me and Jeeves, as was her wont.

"Hi, Papa, Jeeves! I saw a cat in the park and I touched it!" she informed us, smiling as bright as the sun and her eyes the color of the sky.

"Hello, dear," I said, hugging her back. My confrontation with my aunt made me relish this simple action more and I felt lucky that I was allowed to keep this.

After Mildred had her tea, I decided that the mood needed some cheering up and headed to the piano. After all, I just stood up to Aunt Agatha, I needed to celebrate that.

After thumping out a few tunes, I was interrupted by none other than Mildred.

"Papa, can I play?" she asked, fingers on the edge of the pianolid.

Mildred had recently expressed an interest to learn how to play the piano because "I want to play funny songs with Papa too!" much to Jeeves’s dismay.

I eagerly acquiesced, scooting down on the piano bench and making room for her. Once she clambered on and was comfortable, Mildred began to play a simple melody I taught her last week.

She certainly did have the Jeeves ability to do any task with ease, and I, along with Jeeves, watched spellbound as she played the song almost perfectly.

"I say! That's spiffing, Mildred" I exclaimed, or rather, meant to exclaim, because what actually came out of my mouth instead was "That's Miffy!"

Both Jeeves and Mildred stared at me like I’d sprouted gills and said I’d fancied a dip in the English Channel.

“Miffy?” Jeeves uttered, blinking and looking pained.

"I say, my dear, that is a good nickname,” I replied with a smile.

“Surely there are less...ridiculous sobriquets for her, Bertram,” Jeeves objected, but I knew it was more for the sake of it than anything else.

“She’d only get a worse one in school, Reg, I can assure you,” I said. “Where do you think the members of the Drones got their nicknames?”

Jeeves sighed, trying and world-weary, and I knew he’d come round eventually. I turned to look down at our daughter who was still plucking at the keys.

“What do you think, duckling?” I asked gently. “Do you like Miffy?”

Mildred met my eyes with a grin. “Papa, Jeeves, watch me!” she said and we did.

And that's how Mildred became to be known as Miffy amongst the Wooster-Jeeves family.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Wooster-Jeeves family set off to New York!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the late update, exams and life got in the way!

After all the upset with the aged r., Jeeves and I decided it was time for a holiday.  
"I say, Jeeves, how about we go to New York for a bit? Let things cool down with aunts and whatnot. Plus, we could do with a change of scenery.”  
"It is a good idea, my dear. It would also be a good learning opportunity for Mildred."  
"I bet she would love all the musical and artist chaps, what? The Pumpkin Club isn't too bad either."  
Jeeves coughed like a sheep on a distant hillock. "I would think that is not an advisable amusement for a child, my dear."  
I sighed. “No, I suppose you’re right, Reg. You know best after all.”  
The corner of Jeevesian lips twitched about a quarter of an inch, which was akin to a grin from my man. Butterflies frolicked about in the old Wooster tum and I positively beamed up at him.  
When Miffy was told of the trip, she was all excitement, bright eyes, and had a sea of questions to rival the Atlantic.  
"Papa, Jeeves, when are we going to New York?!"  
“Next week, my dear.”  
"Will there be horses? Can we see horses?"  
“Yes, of course, young thing!”  
"Will we go on a ship? How far is New York from here?"  
Jeeves handled most of her questions patiently, much to my relief. I mean, who else apart from Jeeves would know when the Statue of Liberty was made?

* * *

The bags were packed, the ship was boarded and the Wooster-Jeeves clan set off for the Big Apple.  
Miffy's eyes grew bigger as we spied the coastline. "Papa, is that New York?" she asked pointing.  
I replied in the affirmative, and she dashed off to inform Jeeves about how big the buildings were. Miffy was so excited she could barely stand still even while we were getting off the ship.  
"Mildred, hold my hand please," Jeeves had to tell her repeatedly, a touch of steel in his voice. She obeyed, but looked around longingly.  
The crowd swarmed around us and I hoped she wouldn't get separated. It would not be seemly if self was to lose a child within minutes of stepping on American soil, what. We finally boarded a taxi, Miffy looking around her with wonder. I didn't really understand why, after all one metrop is very much like the other. Though I will admit, the glitter in her eyes and her little mouth dropped into an 'O' was a precious sight to behold.  
After reaching our abode, Jeeves biffed off to unpack while I poured a b. and. s. for self, and a glass of milk for Miffy.  
"Daddy, can we go to the park?” she asked. “Is it different from the park at home?"  
I chuckled, "Of course we can, dear. And yes, it's a bit different from Old Blighty."  
Jeeves returned and I handed him the b. and s. "Miffy wants to go to the park, dear.”  
A few minutes later, Miffy, Jeeves and I were on our way to Central Park.  
Miffy immediately ran up the nearest hill and started picking flowers.  
"I wonder how we'll entertain her, Jeeves,” I pondered. “Do you think she'll like going to the theatre?"  
"I believe I know of a place she'll enjoy, dearest,” Jeeves said.  
“I say, is there anything you don't know, my love?"  
We were interrupted by Miffy, who came bounding back towards us with an armful of dandelions.  
"Look, Papa, Jeeves! I found flowers!" She exclaimed, dropping them into our laps.  
"They look very pretty my dear," Jeeves replied, delicately picking up some of the flowers and fiddling about with them.  
"I'll get some more!" She said and dashed off.  
"So, what was the place you were thinking of?" I asked, turning back to him.  
"There is an amusement park located in Coney Island. It contains many entertainments which are suitable for a three year old."  
"Sounds spiffing."  
When Miffy came back, she flopped down beside us, blue eyes bright and dark hair unruly. Jeeves placed a crown of dandelions on her head, tucking a few stray curls behind her ear and she stared up at him in wonder for a moment.  
"So that’s what you were making!" I exclaimed, delighted.  
"Thank you, Jeeves! I have a crown now!" She squealed, while picking up the remaining flowers and sticking it in my hair. "Now Papa has a crown too!"  
"So I do, duckling,” I replied with a fond chuckle. “But it's getting late, and we’d rather get on home."  
"You do look rather dashing with a flower crown, my dear,” whispered Jeeves as he plucked the flowers out of my hair, a twinkle in his e.

* * *

I nipped off to the Pumpkin Club the next day to catch up on the latest, and it was lunchtime when I returned.  
"Welcome home, sir," Jeeves greeted me while taking my hat and whangee.  
"It feels good to be home, Jeeves. Those fellows at the club couldn't believe that I was a father now! Is the very idea that improbable?"  
Jeeves maintained his feudal expression, but a close observer such as myself could see his upper lip twitch by an inch, which is, for him, a guffaw.  
“I daresay they are just surprised, my dear.”  
I poured myself a b. and s. “Where’s Mildred, love?”  
“We went to the park this morning and she decided to stay and play with the other children. Mrs. Harrison will bring her soon.”  
No sooner than Jeeves uttered these words when the doorbell rang. He biffed off to see to it, only to return with our daughter in tow. She rushed past him and hugged my legs as was her customary way of greeting me.  
“Hi Papa! I played with Caroline, Elizabeth and Jimmy!” she exclaimed. “They go to school and learn things! Can I go to school and learn things too?”  
I was taken aback. It’s not every day that a tiny tot of three eagerly wishes to go to school. I was quite the opposite as a stripling, reluctant to go to the seat of knowledge well on into my Eton days. But she was a Jeeves after all, so that explained some things.  
“All in good time, duck,” I replied, brushing my fingers through her curls. “You aren't old enough yet to go to school, but don't worry you'll get there soon enough. Now, wash your hands and we’ll have lunch.”  
After lunch, I conferred with Jeeves.  
“I say, how about we go to Coney Island tomorrow?”  
“That seems to be an excellent plan, my dear. While some rides might not be suitable for her, there are many that she will enjoy nevertheless.”

* * *

“Papa! Jeeves! Wake up! We have to go!” Miffy yelled, the door to the boudoir banging against the wall and shaking the place like a bomb had gone off.  
I was so startled, my head hit the ceiling. “What happened?” I gurgled, looking around. Jeeves was still nestled beside me, his eyes half-open at the noise, and I was relieved to see that birds were not on the wing, and snails left thorns quite empty for the mo.  
“We have to go to Coney Island!” Miffy squealed and tried to climb on the bed.  
“Miffy, there isn’t even light outside yet. It is far too early for Coney Island,” I had sufficiently recovered to speak, and lifted the y.g. onto the bed placed her between us. “How about you sleep till it’s morning?”  
“I don’t want to sleep,” she mumbled stubbornly, laying back against the pillows. But I could see her struggling to keep her big eyes open and soon enough she nodded off.  
I was pleased to find that by the next time I had awoken, it was at a much more earthly hour, and with a restoring cup of oolong. “Ah, good morning, my love. Long day today, what?”  
“Indeed, my dear.”  
After rousing Miffy, and having coated myself in the outer crust of the English gentleman, we were ready.

* * *

“I say, it is bally crowded!”  
People covered every surface of land, it seemed, and I immediately feared losing Miffy in the crowd. Jeeves solved the problem by lifting Miffy into his arms and carrying her as we made our way to the entrance. Miffy was quiet, taking everything in, her eyes as wide as saucers.  
“Do you like it?” I asked her, not without some trepidation. I’ve found the oddest thing about being a father is that you want your child to approve of every little interest you have, and that was the case here.  
“I love it!” she exclaimed, her eyes shining like stars. “Can we go on the horses and music ride?”  
I was confused, but Jeeves nodded sagely. “Of course we can go on the merry-go-round, little duck.”  
As I took the festive scene in, something of the excitement which I had felt when I was a lad and went to a fair for the first time returned. After all, it was hard not to feel festive in an atmosphere like this, covered with games, music and whatnot.  
We finally reached the merry-go-round, having paused to buy a hotdog for Miffy.  
“I want the white horse!” she said while running to it.  
“Be careful, dear,” Jeeves murmured as she tried to hoist herself up the horse. Without a word, I gave her a hand up.  
The look of sheer happiness on her face made me wish I had some way of capturing this moment forever, and as I glanced at Jeeves, I could tell he was thinking the same thing. After two more rides, we made our way to the Wonder Wheel. I could not help but feel a moment’s misgiving as I saw the huge circle moving quite quickly.  
“I say, Jeeves, I’m sure it is safe - what with science and whatsit - but are you sure it's completely safe? After all, one does not wish to meet an untimely end while on a supposedly ‘safe’ ride.”  
My man’s lip quirked upward briefly. “Don’t worry my dear, it is completely safe.”  
We got in one of the cubicles, and the wheel started moving.  
“Why does everyone look so small? And the houses look small too!” Miffy enquired eagerly and Jeeves explained it to her.  
One could see almost the whole of Coney Island and it was an awe-inspiring sight. The whole ride made me feel a bit like the Greek chappie who could fly on wings - minus the flying-too-close-to-the-sun part, of course.  
It felt like mere seconds before the ride came to an end and we clambered off, yours truly in a bit of a daze. I realised in that moment that Miffy was not walking beside me. I looked round, thinking perhaps she’d been accidentally squeezed back but no she wasn’t there either. Jeeves was walking ahead of me and I legged it for him.  
“Jeeves! Is Miffy with you?” I asked, trying to remain calm though my heart was beating like billy-o.  
For a second Jeeves’s mask slipped and I could see fear and concern in his e.s. “I thought she was with you,” he whispered, his face drained of color.  
I say! This chump has blundered again, and this time he was responsible for losing a child in the massive crowd! My Aunt Dahlia’s words came back to me, and I tried not to panic.  
After all, panicking would not help us find her.  
“Where did you last see her?” I asked, trying not to show the panic I was feeling. It was very crowded, and Miffy was small and friendly. Terrible scenarios from my detective novels began to race through my mind: she could be kidnapped, or injured, or we might never find her. And Jeeves will leave you, a vicious voice in my mind whispered.  
“She was near the Wonder Wheel,” Jeeves told me as we quickly fell into step. “Maybe she was separated from us and is in the immediate vicinity.”  
“Right ho!”  
We began our search at the Wheel, calling out her name and keeping our eyes peeled for the straw hat she wore and a flash of her powder blue dress. Occasionally, we’d ask passer-bys if they’d seen her, and received polite yet concerned no’s. The whole ordeal was enough to make one sick with worry and it was just as I was beginning to despair, when the coconut came up with an idea.  
“I say! What if she went to the merry-go-round!” I exclaimed. “She did want to go on it again!”  
“That could be a possibility,” Jeeves replied and we dashed off for the merry-go-round.  
And there, looking quite unaffected and calm, was Miffy standing near the ride entrance.  
I barely held back a cry, my heart bally well flew out of my chest with relief and shock at seeing her. Jeeves on the other h. didn’t waste any time: he strode right over and picked her up, hugging her tightly against his broad chest. There were very rare times I had seen my man so overcome; I could clearly see a t. in the e., and his hands were shaking.  
“Hullo Jeeves,” Miffy said, her little voice muffled against his lapels. I very nearly collapsed, my legs turning into noodles and my breath catching in my throat. It was dashed lucky Jeeves was there, I could barely get a word out.  
“Why did you not tell us where you were going, Mildred?” Jeeves asked her, pulling away and staring her down. Though he asked the q. calmly, I could hear more than a touch of steel in his voice. “Papa and I were extremely worried.”  
She looked contrite, her eyes flicking away nervously. “I wanted to go on the merry-go-round again. I didn't see you and Papa, so I thought you were at the merry-go-round too. I’m sorry. ”  
“Never go anywhere without telling Papa or myself first,” Jeeves said firmly. He took her hand in his and led her towards where I was standing, trying to calm my heart and give my legs a chance to solidify. “What if we never found you? If you had gotten hurt and we didn’t know where you were, Papa and I would never forgive ourselves.”  
Miffy stared down at her patent shoes, shifting from one foot to the other, looking quite contrite. “I’m sorry, Papa. I’m sorry, Jeeves,” she whispered. Jeeves gave her shoulder a reassuring squeeze.  
I dropped down to my knees and took her firmly up in my arms. The old ticker began to calm down inside my chest and I could breathe again, but I must have lost about a decade’s worth of years from this incident.  
“You gave us quite a scare, duckling, and I’m so dashed glad we found you. You were right in staying in one spot, but - ” it was as I spoke that the gears of the old Wooster brain began to grind and I hit upon an idea. “I say! Miffy, if this ever happens again - which I sincerely hope it doesn’t - find a policeman and tell him you’re lost! That way someone can keep an eye on you until we can find you, alright?”  
Miffy nodded, and her blue eyes flashed with an intelligence that was unmistakably Jeevesian. “Okay, Papa!” she said, determined. The corner of Jeeves’s lips ticked upwards in approval and that was enough for me.  
“Right!” I said, rising onto my feet and taking her hand in mine. Jeeves took the other, and I must say it made me feel dashed good to see all was once again right with the world. “Now how about we go and get some ice cream, and then go try out some of those games?”  
The rest of the day passed without any mishaps, thankfully, and a spiffing time was had by all, much to the relief of Jeeves and self.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Miffy celebrates her fourth birthday!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally got around to updating the chapter, this month was pretty hectic. Enjoy!

It was a sunny morn, much like any other day in the Big Apple, and all was right in the Wooster household. I had managed to evade being engaged with beazels, and no aunts or chaps were trying to drown me in the soup. The birds were singing, the sun shining, and I felt at peace.

"Ah, thank you, Jeeves," I said to Jeeves, who had just glided in with my cup of oolong.

"On days like this, one feels like one is in heaven."

"Indeed, sir," he agreed.

At this point we were interrupted by Miffy flying into the room and hugging Jeeves’s knees.

"Hi Papa, Jeeves!" She exclaimed, as was her wont. She had just come back from playing in the park and her hair was awry and her dress was caked in mud.

"My dear, what happened to your dress?" Jeeves asked patiently, though I could discern the concern in his e.s.

"I was chasing Elizabeth and David and I fell down a hill. It was fun!" She said, grinning widely.

"You fell down a hill?" I exclaimed. The bean was already filling with dreadful scenarios as we spoke.

"Does it hurt anywhere?" Jeeves asked, concerned.

She shook her head cheerfully, her e.s as bright as stars. I shrugged at Jeeves. Apparently, raising children meant not getting too worried about the scrapes they get into. I was learning.

While Jeeves cleaned her up, I donned myself in the outer crust and ambled off to prepare a sandwich for Miffy. 

* * *

In the evening, I decided to belt out some cheery tunes on the piano, a much needed break after listening to one of the chaps at the club moan about his lack of luck in love, or somesuch. While playing, a sudden thought made my fingers crash on the keys discordantly.

"Is everything all right, my dear?"my man asked, gliding into the room.

"I say! I just realized I don't know when Miffy's birthday is!" I exclaimed, alarmed. It was just dawning on self that I might've even missed the thing altogether, and that thought made me quite discomfited - what sort of father was I for forgetting my own child’s birthday, what? Though wouldn't Jeeves have informed me if I had?

"I haven't missed it, have I?" I asked. Jeeves blinked, as if the thought had just occurred to him.

"Her birthday is on the thirty-first of this month, I believe,” he replied. The date set something off in my mind.

"Isn't that Halloween? The chaps at the Pumpkin were talking about it today, it seems quite the festival here."

"Indeed. The tradition of Halloween originated with the ancient Celtic festival of Samhain, when people would light bonfires and wear costumes to ward off ghosts. In fact - "

“Never mind about the origin of Halloween, Jeeves. What should we do for our daughter's first birthday living with us?" 

Andthat was when the bean came up with the grand plan. "I say!" I I-sayed. "How about we combine both the festivities of Halloween and Miffy's birthday? We could invite a few of her friends, have some games and even dress up in costume!"

Jeeves looked thoughtful and for a brief mo I thought I might've gone a bit too far. Here we were just learning how to take care of one child, imagine being in charge of a whole group of them.

"Unless you have other plans, of course," I added hastily. "I know taking care of a bunch of tots is a recipe for disaster - "

"I think it's a splendid idea, my dear,” Jeeves said. “And I'm sure Miffy would be delighted."

"Should it be a surprise party?" I asked, recalling my birthday parties when I was a stripling and the absolutely delightful shock of being surprised. "Why not?" Jeeves smiled, his eyes twinkling.

We were interrupted by Miffy coming in and eagerly demanding to play on the piano, and the subject was dropped.

* * *

I awoke at 9 ack emma the next day, which was a rare occurrence, though these days I do make it a point to arise before 12. One must set a good example for one’s children, after all.

While having a cupful of the necessary oolong brought by Jeeves, I began to plan the party. Guests must be called, costumes decided upon, games to arrange, cakes to be made, gifts to buy and decorations to be bought. However, this Wooster was used to hosting parties, but I gladly took to the challenge.

"I wonder who we should invite to the party," I mused. I knew my daughter had many friends, but I didn't know them all that well, apart from the occasional handing out of sweets. Fortunately, these children weren't as bad as the children I've had the misfortune to get acquainted to before.

"Her particular friends seem to be Elizabeth, James and Charlotte," Jeeves replied. I knew Charlotte was the daughter of one of the chaps in the Pumpkin Club, but the other names eluded me. Or was it deluded? I would have to ask Jeeves later.

"Or we could ask her who she would want to invite to the party - but that'll ruin the surprise, dash it," I said as I got ready for the day.

From the corner of my eye, I could see Jeeves mulling on the matter. "If I may, sir, I believe I can find out the names of her other friends," Jeeves replied.

"You've solved yet another problem, my dear," I murmured as I planted a smacker on his lips. We were rather enjoying ourselves when Miffy came running into the room, asking if she could go to the park with Charlotte.

* * *

The guest list was finalized, the invitations were sent and accepted, but there were a few final things to arrange. For instance, the question of the costumes.

"How about dressing her up as a Pierrot?" I mused.

"Certainly not," Jeeved replied, a touch of steel in his e.s. I sighed.

"Of course not. How about a ghost?"

Jeeves's scandalised expression said it all and I donned the thinking cap hastily.

"I say, how about a witch?" I quickly continued before Jeeves could interrupt. "All that's required are a dress, a hat and a cape in dark shades of purple or whatsit, I daresay she would look rather smashing.”

"A witch's costume will be ideal indeed," Jeeves said approvingly.

After some heated discussion, it was decided that we would not be in costume, dashing any hopes I had of being Sindbad the Sailor. This question settled, the matter of the gifts remained.

"Jeeves, have you got Miffy a gift yet?" I remarked. It was two days before her birthday and I was at a loss. I was wondering if I should buy her a stuffed toy of Peter Rabbit.

"She obviously loves cats, so I thought of getting her one - but I didn't get one yet!" I added hastily at Jeeves’s stricken expression. "For starters, how can we take the cat with us to Old Blighty when we eventually bid adieu to New York?"

"Indeed, my dear. I fear buying her a pet when she's so young will tend to do more harm than good. However, we could purchase a toy of a cat."

"Splendid, old fruit! I was also planning to buy her the latest book by Miss Potter and a Peter Rabbit toy."

"That sounds ideal."

"What games should we have? I mean, guessing who can imbibe the most amount of cocktails in five minutes isn't very ideal for tots." Jeeves’s eyebrows rose a full two centimetres, clearly scandalised.

"Certainly not."

"When I was a stripling, I had musical chairs or whatsit at my parties. Tuppy always used to win as he’d shove everyone out of the way, but it might be amusing for the kids."

I left the food arrangements to Jeeves - my man certainly knew what was the appropriate food for a kid's party more than this Wooster.

* * *

The witch's costume had been bought, presents had been wrapped, and everything was in its place. I could only hope that Miffy would find the day enjoyable. The night before her birthday, Miffy could hardly stay still as she wriggled on her bed as I read her bedtime story.

"More, Papa!” She tried to insist after I read two stories, and only reluctantly went to sleep after Jeeves firmly insisted that no more stories were forthcoming.

* * *

"Papa, Jeeves, wake up! It's my birthday! I'm a big girl now!"

I groaned as I got up. Through my sleep hazed mind, I saw that it was a quarter to seven, which was entirely too early for self to start the day. Beside me, I could feel Jeeves stirring.

"Good morning and happy birthday my dear," I managed to croak, before falling back on my pillows. I needed all the energy I could get for the night ahead.

"Happy birthday Mildred,” Jeeves said as Miffy climbed on the bed and squeezed us both as tightly as a python.

She eagerly started asking about her presents, to which we said she'd have to wait. Within a few minutes, she was asleep, apparently tuckered out by the excitement. I suspected that she hadn't slept much last night. Jeeves and I smiled at the sight of the sleeping girl sandwiched between us and Jeeves crept out of the bed to begin the day's preparations.

* * *

We had decided to give presents after the party, and there were still quite a few hours till it began, so I stayed home while Jeeves went out to see to the arrangements.

Miffy was in a fever of excitement, especially when she spotted the heart shaped pancake which Jeeves had made for her.

"Miffy, we have a surprise for you!" I announced once the hour for the party approached.

"What is it?" She asked eagerly.

"Close your eyes and hold out your hands, duck," I told her. She shut her eyes quick as anything and began dancing on the spot.

"Hold out your hands," Jeeves said, and she did as asked. I grinned as Jeeves gently placed the witch's costume in her outstretched palms.

"Open!" I exclaimed. The moment her blue eyes opened and she took in the costume, they widened as big as a whatsit.

"A witch's dress! Just like the one Charlotte has! Thank you!" She cried. "Can I wear it now?"

"Of course, dear," Jeeves replied and ushered her out to help put it on. When she came out, she looked absolutely corking as she jumped around excitedly. I must admit, the sight brought a happy tear to the paternal Wooster eye. Jeeves got her ready as I checked that everything was in place and that the b. and s., glass vases and the cigars were placed well above the reach of curious fingers.

The bell rang and Miffy raced to the door, urging Jeeves to walk faster. The guests turned out, to my surprise, to be my chum Bingo, his wife Rosie and their child, Harry. Pleasantries were exchanged, gifts were given and the children went off to play.

"Bingo, old chap, I didn't know you were in the metrop!" I exclaimed.

"Jeeves invited us for your daughter's party. She looks very charming," Rosie trilled.

"Yes, I must say I didn't expect you to do a good job at this whole parenting lark," Bingo replied, slapping me on the back.

After a bit more kidding back and forth, I wandered off in search of Jeeves, who was supervising a game of musical chairs and ensuring no one started fighting.

The birthday tea was marvellous, the table groaning under the weight of the assorted dishes containing toffee apples, trifle and other sugar loaded foods. Standing in pride of place was a huge cake decorated with black cats and other Halloween related symbols. In purple icing was inscribed "Happy birthday Mildred".

The look of sheer delight on her face as she blew out the candles made me wish I could have a picture of this moment. To my surprise, a loud snapping noise, accompanied by a flash that temporarily blinded me was produced from Bingo's vicinity.

"I say, what on earth was that?" I exclaimed.

"It's my new camera, Bertie! It's marvellous, it even fits into my pocket! And I can send the photo to you after it's developed."

"I say, that's jolly great of you, old chap!"

The party continued merrily, and all too soon it was time to unwrap the presents. Miffy eagerly started, her guests squealing with delight each time she pulled out a gift, which mostly consisted of toys and books. Finally, Jeeves and I handed over our present.

"A cat! I have my own cat now!" She exclaimed, hugging the stuffed cat."Thank you!" Miffy immediately came over to us and hugged us fiercely, her black cat clutched in her arm.

All too soon the party was over, the guests departed, leaving a quiet flat in their wake. It was only once Miffy had been tucked into bed, Jeeves and I were able to have a moment to ourselves.

"I say," I I-sayed. " That was a jolly good do, and she enjoyed it."

"She did enjoy it, Bertram," Jeeves agreed. "She would not go to sleep till I told her two stories from her new books."

I mixed self and Jeeves a b. and s. "Ah, she's four years now, Reg. How time flies."

"We've only been parents for five months, my dear," Jeeves replied amusedly.

"Well. What's that phrase, Jeeves, by that chap that goes, time flies something something fun?"

"I believe the phrase you are looking for is time flies when you're having fun, dearest."

"That's the chappie! But anyway it applies to parenting, what?" I asked, grinning at him. His lips turned upwards into a soft smile.

Now, I normally don't go in for that tosh dribble Rosie Little writes, with the prose of yearning hearts and tossed curls, and flaming eyes, what - but I tell you my man's eyes glowed with love that made the Wooster Corpus melt into a puddle.

"Indeed, dear," he replied and no more was said that night.


End file.
